radioactive {endre vazio, varsilore}

A planet deep in the second dimension, the sole planetary body of a system, placed much to close to its star. A relatively stable world with a climate much too hot and dry for typical plant and animal life, Varsilore, the mining planet, waited. On the surface, prisoners slaved in the mines, searching for precious metals in the hopes of extra privileges for good work. Most wore breathing masks, pumping in oxygen or whatever other gasses the convicts required, but a few did not.

Endre Vazio wasn't the only Venan on Varsilore, and breathing masks were not included in their privileges. After nearly fifteen years, the Venan's body had long since adapted to the harsh, dust-filled air that was even worse still than the atmosphere of his home planet. He turned his face to the bright star that shined above, face darkened and creased by its heat and light, watching a few of the other prisoners turn and return to the prison for their scheduled breaks. Yet another privilege Venans were denied, as their bodies were determined to be capable of handling the strain.

Fifteen years of being forced onto the surface of an unforgiving world, fifteen years of looking in the mirror and barely recognizing his own face, for all it was worth. Fifteen years of work, sixteen hours a day, every day. His face and arms were now lined with faintly glowing red channels; something about Venan blood reacted with a component of the atmosphere and caused it to glow when exposed. He remembered a time before these lines had appeared on his skin, but the benefit they provided him now was unmistakable. Heat radiated out through these nearly exposed channels, acting as a cooling system to replace sweating--water was too valuable here to lose through the skin.

He remembered his first weeks at this facility. Dragged outside--beaten brutally first if he decided to protest--and held down, forced to breathe in the poisonous air even as his instincts kicked in and he clawed and screamed at his captors, lungs searing and breaths gasping. They would force him out for a few minutes at first, then a few hours, until finally he could withstand full days of the toxic atmosphere without a hitch.

Endre smiled bitterly, remembering, before turning back to his work. He was so qualified to work on the surface of the planet at this point that they only gave him a single one hour break in the middle of the day to eat, a half hour to prepare in the morning and another after his shift was done, then seven hours to sleep. His hands had seen much better days, skin thickened and cracked with callouses, and his entire body seemed eternally covered in grime no matter how often he scrubbed it off.

But something told Endre Vazio that soon this all would come to an end. He didn't know what that end would be, but he'd known it was coming for quite some time. He believed he was prepared for any possibility, be it his own death, his release, or something entirely unexpected. The time would come, Endre felt he knew, and there would be a great change.

Good or bad, he wasn't sure. What he was sure of was that he would work whatever situation presented itself to his own advantage. He was ready.

And one day, the change came. Suddenly, after a buildup of anticipation, it washed over everything it could touch. Shade's darkness hit Varsilore like a ton of bricks.

Any and all soldiers were called away to make preparations, and the prison was said to have been left sealed so the prisoners couldn't escape. One of the guards, however, made a mistake in the panic... no one was sure exactly what had happened, but in the next second, the guards had been mauled by the prisoners they had spent so long mistreating. Endre refused to include himself in this outlashing, however, and instead headed straight for the starport where new prisoners were frequently brought in. Goal-oriented, Endre headed straight for his way out. His anger at the prison guards was old and well restrained, and it would have to stay that way. He had other priorities at the moment.

He made it to the starport quickly since all of the guards had either fled or gone to assist their colleagues against the tide of criminals. It almost seemed too easy... his way out was left wide open... and the transport ship's doors slid open under his rough hands. Endre let a broad smile creep over his face, remembering the small ship he'd discovered and fixed up back on Venus, and couldn't help but feel that fortune had smiled on him both times. He slipped into the ship and strapped into the pilot seat, pressing the door control to quickly shut them before anyone noticed his exit.

The ship's controls were much as Endre remembered from his previous experiences, and he engaged the thrusters, slowly lifting the ship from the ground of that horrible planet. Within minutes he was breaking through the upper atmosphere... and freedom was his. He would make sure to ditch the ship at the first promising planet so he couldn't be tracked... but he could hardly focus on what he needed to do next.

It felt like his chest was about to burst. After so long, freedom was again his... and this time, he wouldn't let it go to waste.

A slow smirk crept onto the Venan's face. He had revenge to seek.

~*~“This I choose to do. If there is a price, this I choose to pay. If it is my death, then I choose to die. Where this takes me, there I choose to go. I choose. This I choose to do.” ― Terry Pratchett